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Jason never felt the merits of dating a rich, white boy more than in this moment, as he goes inside what was once a broken down building now a home specifically designed for a vigilante with its own Nest™ in lieu of a basement, with its own secret entrances and all.
He feels as though he’s going up to meet with his sugar daddy at their most private place, hands fidgety as he’s getting more and more desperate to find out what his ‘daddy’ has in store for him. Sky's the limits for Jason’s imagination, so he can’t help but snort at his own thoughts as he steps inside the elevator and leans against the wall, waiting idly for his ride to end.
Three months they’ve been dating, and he still can’t believe how fucking anticlimactic and just plain boring it is to date Replacement. Dating means commitment; a promise of allocating enough time outside business as usual hours to your partner in favor of having more emotional bonding sessions with your lover as they continue to get to know each other better.
Yeah, Jason’s a fucking romantic at heart, sue him.
That’s also why it took him two months of investigating and digging up Replacement’s dating history before jumping straight into a relationship with the boy, consulting to his exes about what it’s like to date Tim fucking Drake of all people. He even had to endure Blondie’s laughing at his face so hard that she literally flipped the table over him, effectively spilling their milkshake and garnering unwanted attention to their table.
Apparently, Jason was equally nuts for even considering dating the boy.
“Sorry, sorry,” Steph had said after calming down and riding out the remains of her initial hysteria, wiping off the tears that had pooled in her eyes. “It’s just such an experience you need to live it for yourself. I really don’t know how to break it down to you.”
It was so not assuring that Steph had taken pity on him in the end.
“Just gonna say that if you’re in for a wild ride—that is, if you commit to the relationship with basically zero expectations, and an open-mind, it’s honestly one of the best damn things you’ll ever get to experience,” She had made a move to take a sip from what was left in her cup, humming to herself a little. “Yeah, definitely the best.”
Jason didn’t have it in him to remind her that all the dudes she’d dated prior to Tim had been either straight-up assholes or thug wannabes when he’d seen the whimsical and reminiscent look on her face. Instead, in a true emotions-are-complicated-so-let’s-not-fucking-talk-about-them-like-normal-human-beings fashion, he had quickly switched the topic to that one soap opera they’d been religiously watching together.
He should have dug harder; been more thorough with his little research because apparently, all of these ‘dating Tim Drake’ stories he’d been hearing were all from before the boy graduated from Robin to become Red Robin—because apparently, Tim's also gone through what people like to call as some major character development (i.e. he’d ‘grown into a very fine man’, and no longer is the ‘impatient and whiny boy’ he used to be).
What a nice fucking way of saying his personality’s just become duller than before.
Because dating Tim—even with zero expectations a priori, per Steph—has been nothing but a huge snooze fest for Jason. He doesn’t give a damn about how he was simply the best because notice the key word ‘was’ here?
He may have been rated as ‘the best’ at some point, but the man he’s dating now is nowhere near the best, that’s for sure.
Now. Tim may be one of the best detectives and most competent vigilantes out there—though you’ll never catch Jason admitting this to his face, though, in fear of boosting his already size-of-a-full-moon big ego—and there’s no denying that shedding some of that baby fat on his cheeks helped him appear more handsome as opposed to just cute, and not the mention the wolf-cut he’s been supporting for a while now framing his narrow face, and his bangs falling over his oh-so-pale gray eyes, and—
Yeah, right. So, Tim’s definitely a fine catch for many (aka for those who have eyes ) and Jason finds himself pretty much attracted to the man physically, yet it’s just so that…dating Tim’s been rather frustrating and disappointing even without any prior expectations so to speak.
Nothing has changed since they started dating—hell, sometimes Jason feels like they’re just dating in name only, given pretty much nothing ’s shifted between them neither emotionally nor physically.
While Jason finds the latter just as attractive as before—scratch that, seeing a post-patrol Tim peeling himself out from his leather costume and parading around merely in his briefs, body all sweaty, has definitely made him look more appealing to Jason than ever, but the main and the most jarring issue still persists:
Jason doesn’t really feel for Tim as much as his body gets all hot and bothered around him.
Jason, under normal circumstances, would absolutely give zero fucks about his (potential) partner’s looks if it meant the person had the personality of a rotten egg. He certainly isn’t the type to commit to a relationship without harboring at least something for the other, either, which means Jason pretty much cared and still cares about Tim in more ways than he allows himself to think.
Despite their initially getting on the wrong foot, Tim—the sneaky bastard he is—has managed to worm his way into Jason’s heart, mind and, if he plays his cards well, maybe, even his soul. It’s just the boy seems so damn unbothered to take any action.
As the elevator bell rings, and the doors open, freeing him from his brooding thoughts, Jason lets out a particularly loud sigh, entering Tim’s Nest. He idly makes his way up to the computer desk upstairs, confident that Tim’s probably holed up in his chair, deep into his research or something.
One mop of black hair in his sight confirms his guess as he stops by Tim’s side. “What’s up, birdie?” He greets him casually, hands in his pockets.
Tim takes his time typing down some info about what it looks like a possible drug ring. “Been working on this case for the past few weeks,” He says, eyes never once leaving the computer screen, hands typing down furiously. “Almost done with it.”
Taking a glimpse at the disorganized desk, at the untouched, cold coffee by the monitor, Jason raises one eyebrow at him.
“Could have fooled me. Pulled an all-nighter again just to speed run the whole thing, birdie? ‘Cause I thought we’d already talked about this.”
Now, Jason normally wouldn’t give a flying fuck about Tim staying up all night, operating in ‘zombie mode’ that he usually preserves for deep diving into cases he’s particularly interested in because it’s actually not only a pretty common pattern among the Bats, but one Jason himself is often guilty as charged for doing as well, however Tim also gets unbearably insufferable and nonchalant about his surroundings when he gets fixated on a mission; so, Jason hates it to a fault when the boy randomly demands his attention and calls him over just to ghost him the entire time.
The humming noise coming from Tim in lieu of a proper answer to Jason’s calling him out is enough for his hackles to get raised, his already sour mood worsening in an instant.
He doesn’t want to seem too clingy — or worse needy, but constantly getting the cold shoulder from your partner easily fucks with your head; more so when you’re… well, new to this kind of stuff in the first place.
After a few minutes of awkward silence hanging over them, just as Jason was about to make for a quick exit, he absent-mindedly takes notice of the bag that’s been clutched hard in his grasp the whole time. He was so damn over his head that he’d completely forgotten about this little…scheme he’d come up with before leaving his apartment to meet Tim here.
Suddenly feeling a little bit more enthused, he decides to give Tim one last chance at redeeming himself, starting in a dismissive tone. “Anyway, what exactly am I here for, you said?”
“I’m about to wrap this up, so,” the reply comes quicker this time. Good.
“Thought we could hang out afterward or something.” Yeah, no.
He may have thought they could hang out some other time, but there’s absolutely no way Tim’s getting done with this annoying case of his, at least not any time soon.
It’s a no-brainer at this point: The boy looks like he’s ten seconds away from shutting down on him like a robot operating solely under solar energy and guess who’s been curling up in his Nest underground like a bat?
Stick to the plan, it is.
Jason’s already tossed the bag aside somewhere, so it only takes him a mere few seconds to spin Tim’s chair towards himself to plant himself on the boy’s lap, crowding his space as he proceeds to open the pack of chocolate sticks in his hand. The way Tim has to crane his neck to meet Jason’s eyes, with a bewildered and truly lost expression on his face, gives him the final ego boost he needed. Cute.
“Let’s try out this Pocky thingy I saw on the ‘net, Timbo.”
“Po- what ?” Tim tilts his head, nose crunching at the word like a bun’s, as if he’s trying to figure out a puzzle while Jason nonchalantly fishes one stick out of the pack.
“It’s November 11th, Timbo. Also known as Pocky Day. Heard lovers usually celebrate it. By partaking in this challenge.” Jason explains casually as though he’s talking about the weather or the next Gotham Knights game.
Tim looks further lost as he whines out “What game? Jason, wha—” Jason effectively cuts him off with a chocolate stick, dangling it in the space between his eyes. Tim looks like a pup staring at the bone dangling in front of its face, eyes watching the object intently.
Double cute.
“Here’s the deal, Timmy. We’re gonna bite one end of this stick and gnaw our way to meet in the middle.” At that, Tim’s eyes snap back to meet Jason’s, and it doesn’t take a genius to know a complaint’s about to come out of his mouth, so he beats him to it to spare himself the speech.
“You look one click away from collapsing onto the monitor, Timmy, so do ourselves a favor and relax a bit. Just stop reasoning for a little.”
When Tim doesn’t look any convinced, Jason feels the headache return to probe behind his skull; his hands getting sweaty, blood rushing to his face as he’s rapidly getting engulfed by his own frustration about everything. He’s literally two seconds away from uninstalling himself from Tim’s lap and bolting away.
This will hardly be the cringiest thing he’s done in his two lifetimes if he actually manages to realize his plan to the end, and he’s already starting to get overwhelmed by some of that weariness Tim’s rubbing off on him. He really doesn’t want any of his pent-up frustration muddying their already tense conversation; especially when he’s perfectly aware of how some of his neediness has already bled into his behavior in the form of pathetic desperation.
He can’t help but squirm under Tim’s intense scrutiny as he does his best to refrain from basically whining at the boy.
“It’s eight fucking thirty in the morning, Tim. No crook in their right mind starts to operate this early in the day,” he puts the stick in his mouth, nudging his chin towards him.
“You’ve already done your homework, you can afford a little Pocky break.”
He sees something softening in Tim’s eyes despite his horrible pun while he continues to meekly stare at Jason as though he’s grown a second head, his eyes fixing towards where Jason’s biting on the stick for a split second before he leans in to bite on his end. Inwardly, Jason lets out one heavy breath he didn’t know he was holding in the first place.
He was betting on Tim being maybe a little more enthusiastic in indulging Jason’s silly idea when he had first come up with the plan. It was supposed to remain a whimsical thought really; just another corny scene he saw from that soap opera Steph got him hooked on. As a sucker for romance—and a hopeless fucking romantic—he should have known he’d eventually give in to his pointless yearning and delude himself into trying it out for himself.
Now that Tim’s finally caved in, Jason intends to savor the moment while it lasts as best as he can.
Due to their size difference, Jason had to make sure he’s not laying all of his body weight onto Tim’s leaner figure before inserting himself in his lap, so he’s been supporting himself by gripping on the armrests with Tim’s smaller yet calloused hands resting on top of them.
He opens his eyes to take a glance at Tim, and is relieved to find out he’s somewhat more relaxed than before; his baby blue eyes closed, taking bird-sized bites on the stick. Jason takes the opportunity to take in Tim’s appearance properly:
There are dark, purplish circles beneath his eyes—due to lack of sleep no doubt— and his hair is all sorts of wild and disorganized, sticking to random sides in an unstylish and sloppy way. His normally pale skin looks even more ghoulish, again, probably because of Tim hiding himself down in his Nest and avoiding the sun like the plague.
Fuck it, he thinks before he frees one hand from Tim’s tentative grip to pull the boy by the nape of his neck, effectively breaking the stick in half. He doesn’t give Tim any time apart from yelping in surprise as Jason plunges his tongue into his mouth, chasing the remains of biscuits and the toothsome flavor of chocolate.
For every ups and downs and disappointments their relationship has been through, Jason can’t imagine living without Tim’s touch on his skin; without his chapped, thin lips against his, and the warmth radiating from his lean yet deceptively strong body.
Jason lets out a happy sigh against Tim’s lips, letting himself be pulled closer so that he sits in his lap properly. He hears the chair hitting the desk behind them with the added weight, also knocking some of the files off to the ground by the sounds of it. Jason worms one hand into Tim’s hair, scratching his scalp, earning one pleased moan from Tim.
He feels giddy with an emotion he hesitates to name; instead, he lets himself get drunk in the heady and oh-so-addictive taste of chocolate mixed with the aftertaste of some of that coffee Tim’s been dunking himself in. Like everything else in life, however, they soon have to pull back to catch their breath, chest heaving heavily as though they’ve run a marathon at the backyard of the Manor.
Tim looks up at Jason who’s practically mounted on top of him, a dazed expression on his face which soon turns into one of those little smiles Tim casts at his way whenever he deems one of Jason’s many mischiefs endearing. Particularly, when he’s annoying the shit out of B.
Tim sighs against Jason’s neck as he rests his head against his chest. “I never realized how much I missed this.”
Now it’s Jason’s turn to let out a confused, little noise while Tim merely tightens his grasp on Jason’s waist, burying himself further into his embrace.
“Been aching to spend some time with you, missed your stupid jokes so bad.” He murmurs into his sweatshirt, words slurry as the pent-up exhaustion finally hits him in his bones.
“You sleeping on me after getting one piece of solid food in your stomach, birdie?” Jason huffs to his hair, one hand grooming Tim’s unruly strands back into place. “Not the best place to crash on and believe me, I’ve slept in worse.”
Tim merely lets out a meek, sleepy noise, clearly getting ready to fall asleep with his head buried snugly in between his pecs.
O…kay. This wasn’t exactly how Jason had imagined the plan would go.
He looks at the pack of sticks resting on the desk he doesn’t remember even tossing there in the first place, and shakes his head in desperation. So much for reigniting the romantic flames back in their relationship.
“Up you go, Timmers,” he disentangles himself from Tim’s octopus hands which garners one particularly pitiful whimper out of the boy. “Can’t have you die on me with no other witness at hand—nobody would believe me if I told them it was actually your sluggish ass that put you to an early grave, not me.”
Tim snorts inelegantly but lets Jason drag him towards the couch nearby with no further complaints “I still have a case study to wrap up, Jase.” He tries with no real heat to it.
“Consider it done as you’ve already said it yourself, Timmy,” Jason pulls the boy down on the coach with him, letting him lay down on his chest like a makeshift bed.
Tim, who can’t keep his hands to himself when in proximity to Jason, immediately worms his way up to tuck his face in the crook of Jason’s neck, sighing contentedly when he breathes in his cologne.
A few minutes in comfortable silence and then “Hm, nectarine—are you still using that cologne I gifted to you on your birthday?” murmurs Tim while Jason’s idly stroking the little sloth’s hair.
“Yeah, birdie. Had myself all dolled up for you and all that shit before I came here.” Jason aims for a nonchalant tone, but cringes internally when some of his frustration leaks into his words nonetheless. Luckily, Tim’s too exhausted to go detective mode on him, and, probably, lets it slide for the time being as he merely lets out a contemplating hum.
At least that’s what he thought because a few seconds later Tim speaks again, louder this time but voice still reeking of sleep overdue.
“I know I haven’t been good to you, Jason. Honestly? I don’t even think I could ever be deserving of you in any way, but I know I’ve been especially shitty as a boyfriend lately.”
Jason suddenly feels as though they’re suspended frozen in time; as though he’s suddenly forgot about how to breathe. His breath hitches as he tentatively raises his chin off of Tim’s head to take a better look at him.
“Tim—”
“You don’t have to get defensive of me or come up with some bullshit excuse for my sake, you know,” Tim speaks over him, letting whatever he’s been holding back outside his system through slurry words.
“I didn’t even think you’d ever take on my offer to date each other, really—I mean, my reputation probably precedes me at this point, but to be honest? I’d already settled for you laughing your ass out up on my face and bullying me for the rest of our lives,” he snorts, and it doesn’t take a genius to catch the self-depreciation scattered in his words.
“I mean… I could certainly live with that, if it meant you acknowledge my feelings— rejection be damned.”
“Still surreal that I get to kiss you, and climb you like a tree, and go to sleep with you doting on me as if it’s your duty to tend to my spoiled ass in the first place, and— God, you’re just too good for me, Jason,” he starts dozing off in the middle of his monologue, voice only a tad bit away from being inaudible.
“You’re too good for me; literally, the best thing I could ever ask for, Jay.”
Flabbergasted.
Utterly stunned, and abashedly lost for words.
Jason watches Tim surrender to his exhaustion and plunder into a deep sleep that’s been a long coming for his lithe body.
This is— All of it’s just—
Wow.
Eyes the size of a full moon, Jason stares at the ceiling with reels in head turning rapidly over Tim’s tipsy confession just now. He suddenly feels so fucking ashamed of how he’s somewhat constructed this issue that was so self-centered and focused solely on how Jason himself felt regarding their relationship, completely disregarding how Tim ’s been feeling about them—
To hell with it. Never in his life Jason ever pegged Tim as the self-deprecating type between the two; not when making jokes about his death and insecurities has long become a brand of Jason’s.
God, I wanna punch something, someone, Jason groans inwardly. Too good, my ass. I just got exposed for being an equally shitty boyfriend for not even fucking realizing my partner’s been inventing scenarios about me— idolizing me of all people.
Rolling with the Bats™ means that you’re deemed adequately fucked up in the right ways—hence the symbol and permission to partake in their hunt for lowlifes in the streets of Gotham. The symbol works as a free pass for learning the ways of always feeling and operating under someone’s shadow , in other words.
It shouldn’t be a surprise for Jason to find out about Tim’s inferiority complex which gets, in hindsight, clear as day—especially when he’s surrounded by his peers.
This impromptu confession he’s managed to fish out from the boy thanks to a fucking chocolate stick (no thanks to Jason’s big brain) suddenly acts as an eye-opener for Jason; mind whirling around many different scenarios and takes on their past interactions both on field and as a couple.
Now that the idea’s been planted in his mind, it’s only a matter of time before Jason re-evaluates Tim’s every interaction with other Bats. Unfortunately for both, though, Jason’s neither a psychiatrist nor is feeling drunk and miserable enough to perform a mental autopsy on someone other than himself.
What he does, instead, is to bind his arms tighter around Tim’s waist, and pull him closer; wrap him up safe and sound in his warm embrace, leaving feather-light pecks on his hair so as not to awaken him, and stroke down his back soothingly.
“Tim can be quite unbearable as well as insufferable with his obsession when it comes to any of his cases like a certain You-Know-Who,” Steph had said to him sometime after their disastrous coffee ‘date’, info dumping on Jason out of nowhere and on her own volition. “But all becomes worth it when you catch him smiling at you when he thinks you’re not looking; when he gives you the sweetest kisses and the warmest hugs you could ever get from someone you love.”
“Dating Tim is like trying your hands at growing orchids as a newbie—it looks simple at first glance, but you need to be hella cautious about keeping the soil dry, and careful about where you keep the plant. You gotta make sure it gets enough sunlight, but too much heat can quickly send it off to the other side, at the same time. It needs a fine balance between doting and neglecting— too much watering, and it closes off completely, but all the tedious work is just worth it the moment you realize how it thrives on just the right amount of love, how beautifully its flowers bloom with just the right amount of care.”
They both have their issues, and they certainly have a long way to go as a couple but from the looks of it, they’re both willing to give this thing a chance to bloom into its potential—at least Jason has no intentions of giving up on whatever they have that easily.
For all their bickering, and ups and downs on and off patrol, Jason—maybe for the first time in this life— wants to fight for something not out of his pettiness to prove himself to others, to make a point, to demonstrate people that he is capable of accomplishing things on his own, but for himself.
No. This time, he wants to fight for themselves only; for the two of them.
This will be the one time he’ll allow himself to look past any reason behind his motives other than being selfish, and hold on to what’s probably a shaky and loose strand of rope their relationship is tied to.
They have a lot to discuss— a lot to unpack, preferably when they’re both sober, but right now, at this moment, with Tim sleeping soundly in his arms and Jason tracing the saccharine taste lingering in his mouth, Jason decides they can wait for a while longer. They still have time, and the will, to make things work between them.
Right now, it’s here in each other’s arms, Jason thinks, where they should be.